Quin
by Mehghla
Summary: With her mom dead, Quin has to go live with a dad who didn't even know she exsisted. Now, she's having weird guys give her strange looks and raging tempers. What's up with La Push, anyway? *Seth & Quin Imprint*
1. Prologue

_Prologue_

The day my mother died was a sad one. I had been making dinner around 7:15 pm at night that Saturday.

She worked at a local thrift store a couple of blocks away. So close that you could walk to it from our tiny apartment.

I was just about to set the pasta down into the strainer when the phone rang, causing droplets of hot water to rain down onto my skin.

"Shit," I cursed, running my hand under the tap.

We never had that much money in our lives. So the only phone in the house was located in the cramped living/dining/office.

"Coming!" I called out to no one, crossing the floor to the ancient cordless phone adorning the single table.

"Hello?" I balanced the phone in between my ear and shoulder, mixing the pasta with some homemade sauce.

"Hello. Is there someone named…" pause "…Quin Scotts there?" the generic voice asked.

"Yes. I'm Quin Scotts," I said shakily. I had the weirdest feeling in the pit of my stomach. Like something very bad was going to happen.

"Hi Quin," a different, more friendly voice said," I know you're probably busy right now. But I'm afraid I've got some very bad news, dear."

"Bad…news?" I croaked, voice thick.

"Yes, darling. It's your mother. I'm afraid she's been in an accident and…"

But the moment she said the word 'accident', my ears stopped listening. My head was whirling, trying to process everything the woman said.

"Honey? Are you still there?" the lady asked, snapping my thoughts back to reality.

"I'm here," I managed to croak out.

"It's okay," she assured, "Everything's going to be alright. Now, all I need you to do is come over here to the hospital, okay?"

I nodded, still unable to speak.

"Quin, sweetheart, how old are you?" the lady asked.

"Fifteen," I choked, shoulders shaking.

"Oh my," the woman said to herself, "Alright. Quin? We're sending someone over to get you. Sit tight and don't panic. Everything's going to be fine," she said once again, hanging up.

Even at that time, before I had even seen my mother, I knew that everything was _not_ going to be fine. I had already thought up of everything I was going to say to her as my last words as I waited for the people to arrive, and even as I rode over to the hospital.

One look at my mother, lying there on the bed, hooked up to various tubes, and I knew that she wasn't going to survive.

While the nurses told me not to worry, I was busy whispering my last thoughts to her. They told me that the car that hit her on her way home from work did not make much impact. But once again, I knew nothing they said was true.

I stayed next to her all night long, and even in the morning. It wasn't until the nurses dragged me out that I finally left.

Three days later, she was gone.

The whole time, I did not cry. A tear or two may have escaped, but never did I outright burst. I guess a part of me, the reassuring part of me, still believed every word those nurses told me.

The funeral was a small one. We couldn't afford a proper burial, so we decided on a tiny one. A group of my mother's closest friends, as well as 2 co-workers and her boss showed up.

Due to the lack of burial funds, my mother's body was not in the used casket. The doctors had claimed it for research.

It was at that make-shift funeral that the tears started. No one could control me as I knelt over the empty coffin, tears spraying out and onto my hand-me-down black gown.

The next day, a social worker by the name of Judy showed up at my doorstep. She took me to some fancy lab to get a blood test.

Apparently, Mom did not list any relatives in the papers for me to go to. Honestly, I wasn't really concerned. I knew that my mom's parents both died when she was eighteen. And ever since I could remember, it had always been just the two of us. But, of course, me being only fifteen, I had no say over anything.

For about a week, I didn't do anything but eat and sleep. My mother's friends took turns staying over and taking care of me.

Then, at the end of the week, Judy showed up again. The lab results had come in and she wanted the two of us to go in and check it out.


	2. Surprises

"A father?" I stated, flabbergasted, "I _have_ a _**father**_!" I repeated.

"Yes," Judy said slowly, "Everyone has a father, Quin, its basic biology."

I stood there, mouth wide open, gaping stupidly at her.

"You know, a _father_," she emphasized with her hands, "As in, the guy who helped make you? Quin, do you need me to explain the whole process to you?"

I shook my head, "I know how it works, Judy. It's just," I threw my hands up in the air, "I've never had a father in my life. The word 'dad' is not in my vocabulary."

And it was true.

There was never a male figure in my life. No father, boyfriend, nothing. It was always just the two of us. Just my mother and me. Never a third wheel to our family.

"Quin?" Judy asked slowly, concerned, "Is everything alright?"

"Um…yeah. Fine," I said, slightly in a daze.

Judy looked skeptical, but nonetheless did not comment.

My mind was racing. _A father! I __**have**__ a dad!_


	3. Goodbye Home

**A/N:** I know that I should be finishing my other fanfic, **Just A Friend**, but I don' t know what to make Nessie do next!  
Please don't beat me up about it! *Cowers under wrath of readers*  
Anyway, I know the begining's kind of slow, but I swear it'll pick up more in the next couple of chapters. R&R!

* * *

I'd never been in an airplane before. Mom never approved of flying. She always said flying was for, "Losers who didn't know how to walk." I think it's pretty ironic, really, that she had to die for me to step foot onto my first airplane.

A month had gone since she passed away. Since then, I'd been living mostly at this special orphanage-type place with Judy. She was the person who contacted my…er…the guy who helped make me. (Ugh! I can't even get the word out right!)

Apparently, he had no clue I even existed! Imagine that! His name's Sam Uley. He's 33, is married (I bet she's a vile creature) and lives near Forks, Washington (really, who names their city after a _utensil?_).

At least, that's all that Judy told me. Honestly, to me, this guy's a complete stranger.

Judy was nice enough to escort me to the airport. Since I wasn't 18, I had to go live with _him_ and his _family_. Basically, I was getting shipped off from Las Vegas, Nevada, to my own personal hell in Washington.

Rolling my bags behind me, I sullenly followed Judy to the luggage counter.

My 2 suitcases were nearly empty. The first one (donated by my mother's friend, Lissa) consisted of my full wardrobe. Though I doubt any of it would be able to withstand the cold winters, I couldn't just leave them behind, could I? (Hey, at least I could use them now, since it's only June.)

The second one (scavenged from the dusty corners of the thrift store) had only my mother's things. Some of her clothes, her pictures, her pottery that she used to make, the ancient walkman she got on her 16th birthday, pictures of her parents, the expensive silver dining set she inherited from her parents, her mismatched jewelry

"Quin? You've got to give the bags to the lady," Judy reminded.

Stiffly, I handed the woman at my counter, who gave my ratty bags a disgusted look before sending them off on the conveyer belt.

After walking me safely to my terminal and reminding me to "give her a call if anything's wrong," she left.

It wasn't until I was seated in the plane that the tears started.

I was really going to miss everything. Miss the city lights, the people, even the dingy old apartment. I can't believe I was going to leave all this behind to go live with some stranger.

"Good morning, everyone! And welcome to Vegas National Airlines!" the perky flight attendant announced.

Even through the tears, I somehow managed to roll my eyes. No wonder Mom hated airplanes. Everything was so commercial!

After moping up my eyes and letting out a shaky, slightly hysterical laugh, I snapped my seat belt in place and tuned out everything with the headphones.

I said 'goodbye' to my old home, and soon, we were off.


	4. Meeting with a Stranger

I never really realized how insanely huge America really was. I thought the whole trip would be less than 20 minutes long.

Well, it's not. I've been sitting in this cramped seat for nearly half an hour, and we _just_ crossed the border into Idaho.

I sighed. If only Mom were here. Then she would've been able to keep me from being bored. She would've cracked some joke about the old bald guy snoring next to me.

I wonder why they put windows in here. First of all, the windows are a little bit bigger than the palm of my hand. So it's pretty hard to look outside. And even if you _do_ manage to catch a glimpse of the things outside, there's not much to see. Just wisps of clouds floating about. And _that's_ only if you're lucky.

After sitting there for I don't know how long (I honestly stopped keeping track after the first 20 minutes), the flight attendant came out again.

"Good evening everybody and thank you for traveling with us on Vegas National. We hope you have enjoyed you trip. We will be landing shortly, so I advise you to sit back and fasten your seatbelts. Also, please keep any objects from blocking the isle and make sure your children are fastened in correctly. Thank you!"

_Finally!_

The woman across the isle shook the man next to me, "Hon, we're landing in a bit. Get ready, ok?" He drowsily readjusted himself and buckled himself in.

Gazing out the window, I saw the runway spread out front of us. Only the tips of the skyscrapers of Seattle were visible in the dense fog circling us.

Landing was horrible! What with the guy next to me nearly screaming for mercy, and my ears closing up, I hated it.

When were finally safely on the ground, some flight attendant walked down the isle and over to where we were seated.

"Hello, Miss Scotts. My name is Amber and I'm here to escort you to your luggage," she said, smile big and fake.

I grunted, not bothering to take her hand. Swinging my bag over my shoulder, I stormed after her.

_I'm so tired of everyone treating me like a child! I'm not a little kid anymore! I can take care of myself. And I certainly __**don't **__need some overly preppy flight attendant in a too-short skirt taking me places. _

"Um, Miss Scotts?" Heather said.

"What?" I snarled, being as bitchy as I could.

"I'm afraid I'm going to have to leave you here. Are you sure you'll be fine by yourself, or do I need to send someone else to take care of you?" she asked, brow creasing (probably at the thought of having to do more work, I bet!). I wanted to get away from her as quickly as possible. Heather deeply irked me.

"I'm fine," I grumbled. Taking hold of my bag, I marched away from her and to the luggage carousal.

My suitcases weren't that hard to recover, considering the fact that they were the two most ruddiest bags among the others. After lugging them off the belt, I rolled them out into the Waiting Area.

The Waiting Area was full of people, all waiting to find their family and friends. Many anticipated smiles greeted me when I emerged from the luggage room, though none were directed toward me.

Gliding the bags behind me, I searched the crowds for someone who may look like me (I can't even say the F-Word!)

Then, I saw him.

He was lounging against a pillar with a decorated (probably by his _other_ kid) sign saying "Quin".

I was shocked at how much I resembled him!

I never really looked like my mother. Not really. Whereas she had wispy honey-blonde hair, creamy skin, and freckles, I was stuck with dark skin and thick black hair. I always thought it was normal. Never did it dwell upon my mind that there may be someone out there, a parent, who looked almost exactly like me.

And now, here he was, standing a couple of yards away, a taut expression on his deeply tanned face.

His hair was the same silky black as mine, though his was cut short and mine fell in soft ringlets down my back. We both shared the dark skin, although his was a deep russet, while mine stayed a light, sun-kissed color. And, as I noticed with a pang, we shared the dimples that adorned our cheeks.

I rubbed my own face; feeling oddly satisfied by this little similarity.

He looked up as I approached, eyes questioning. They quickly softened as, I suppose, they took in the resemblance.

"You must be-" I started.

"Sam," he clarified, "Sam Uley.

We stood around awkwardly until he offered a hand out.

"I'm Quin. Quin Scotts," I took it. Glancing around, I realized how formal it all was. All the other families were exchanging hugs and kisses.

"You've got her eyes, you know?" he pointed to his own black pupils, "Bridget's."

I stiffened. No one ever called her that. To me, she was always 'Mom'. And everyone she knew called her 'Bree'.

"I know," I whispered back, heart dropping. I never realized, until now, how little of her I carried in my appearance. The eyes were the only thing that reminded people of her when they saw me.

He cleared his throat when he saw me get all quiet and glassy-eyed. "We should go. Emily's waiting for you," he announced, taking both my suitcases and leading me away.

I ground my teeth together. _Emily. So __**that**__ was her name. She's probably going to be Cruella Devil!_


End file.
